Failings
by FairyDustLass
Summary: Eighteen-year old Kelvin Phillips is an emotially abused girl who is the author of a popular fanfiction series in which Jim Hawkins is in a situation akin to hers. Unbeknownst to her, Jim is actually expiriencing the trauma she's creating. When Kelvin is whisked away to his alternate reality and stuck in his care, Jim is determined to make her pay. T for violence & language
1. Kelvin

A/N: Okay, Kelvin actually _does_ write about Jim, but what you guys are reading, unless included in Kelvin's part, is actually what's going on with him, part of _this_ fanfiction, not Kelvin's. They both happen roughly at the same time though.

I've written fanfiction before, but this is something I've thought of doing often, just...never did. I've read a lot of self-insert fanfictions, and even though I enjoy them, almost every single one of them happen to be Mary Sue's. I hope Kelvin isn't. Jim _is_ going to meet her, and he _is_ going to hurt her. Jim's gonna be a little OOC in this fic. There will be violence. There will be swearing. There may even be torture, I don't know yet. What I _di_ know, what I'm aiming for, is that this is going to be pretty dark. If you don't like that kind of thing, don't read this.

I don't own Treasure Planet or the girl Kelvin is based off of.

I DO own this story.

I don't own the idea of a fictional character of one person actually being real and expiriencing written trama, It was in some movie I saw that I can't remember the name of.

Everything in Kelvin's world is modern day. Everything in Jim's world is supposed to be era-accurate, so women wear dresses, girls aren't viewed that highly, children are seen and not heard, it's not uncommon for a guy to 'own' someone, so on and so forth. No internet, cell phones, cars, all the tech stuff is different from what Kelvin's used to.

Read and review.

-FDL

1. Pain

Sometimes she wondered if everyone really did feel the way she did. She'd heard the term 'depressed teenagers' so many times, accompanied by the annoyed, almost bored expression, so many times, she'd dismissed it a long time ago as a phase that everyone went through. She assumed that everyone, at this particular stage in their life, went through this sort of melancholy stage. The anger, the frustration, the pain, it was all part of life, and soon her hormones would balance out and she would become a mature, well behaved, adjusted adult who would have it together. She'd known that, had always thought that, and still did. But sometimes she wondered if everyone else's pain got _this bad_. She'd never ask, of course, because she didn't want to know. If pain this bad was common, it would mean that she was just weaker than the average person, which she already knew. And if it wasn't, if hers was clinical depression, then it meant there was something wrong with her, anyway. That she was a mental case. She put the thought from her mind, rocking a little harder. Her eyes were focused on a spot on the bathroom wall, her arms wrapped around her knees in the fetal position, though the wrist of her right hand was jammed into her mouth. She bit down harder, wincing at the pain, but it did what it was supposed to. Little by little, the pressure in her chest was lessening.

It was all her fault. Again. Really, if she could just keep her damn mouth shut, then she'd never _have_ this problem. At least the yelling was over with. Not the entire affair, no. The storm was still present, she laid in the eye, but the thunder was over for now. Why did she have to say anything? Hadn't she learned by now that she just couldn't connect with her mother, the way everyone else seemed to be able to? She knew what it was, of course. She knew very well that her mother loved her and never meant to hurt her, and that she truly felt bad when things like this happened. The thing was, she didn't feel bad until the next day, leaving Kelvin to fend for herself in the meantime. The friction between them had always been there, and Kelvin had always felt it. She hadn't always known what it was. When she was younger, she had felt something missing, like whenever she lost a tooth and instead all that remained was a sore hole in her mouth. Something missing. Something that just wasn't there.

Kelvin Phillips was adopted. She was one of the fortunate few who, though a foster child at birth, had been adopted by a kindhearted, loving woman. Kelvin had never known another mother, and as far as she was concerned, this was her family. She didn't care that she didn't know much about her biological family, and from the way she hardly ever heard from them, neither, she supposed, did they. That was alright. She could handle that. Kelvin was a smart girl. She'd read before that often, children who are adopted lack the full emotional bond they would have formed with their mothers. She labled this problem thusly. Her mother was a generous, caring, loving woman, and Kelvin considered herself lucky. Things could have turned out very differently, and she should be greatful for what she had.

And most of the time, she did. She did everything she was told to do. She stayed out of trouble, she had good grades. She fit the 'average' lable perfectly. What Kelvin's problem had been born of was that she had very little self respect. She hated herself, couldn't stand herself. And though she tried hard to overcome this, it never got any better. She had tried, once, to make a list of her good points. She had a considerable amount of talent as far as creative writing and drawing went. She loved animals. She, like her mother, was very generous. She had good moral values, she was forgiving, and she tried _very hard_ to be a good friend. That was as far as she got. The night she'd tried to further the list, her depression had gotten the better of her. In a metal box she kept in her closet, there sat a different, longer list. A list of things that she felt were wrong with her. It covered everything, from the horrible, bitchy attitude her friends complained about to her pock-eaten skin, her flabby figure, her dull mind, her terrible taste in clothes, books, movies, everything else she could think of. Kelvin couldn't stand herself. She just didn't have the time to deal with her feelings, so she surpressed them. She burried them, deep inside, and tried her best to keep them there.

She hadn't meant to cause any trouble. She'd come home that day, actually in a good mood. One of her friends wanted to come over. Reccently, the girls had descovered a liking for tribal-styled jewelry. Erica had bought some wooden beads and leather cord, and Kelvin desperately wanted to try her hand at carving on the beads. Wouldn't it look nice, she thought, to carve maybe leaf patterns or animals on them? Better yet, Erica's mother had given her the okay to stay the night with Kelvin. Kelvin had very few friends, and hadn't had a sleepover with Erica yet. It had sounded like a lot of fun. However, Kelvin hadn't counted on her mom. Kelvin's mom could at times give the okay for one of her friends to come over, and sometimes she even joined in herself. She could fit seamlessly in with the girls. Kelvin's friends really liked her. But other times, like today? Kelvin had found her mom in the kitchen when she'd gotten home from school.

"How was your day?" she had asked, not looking up from the potatos she was peeling. Kelvin had noted the tone she'd used, and should have taken a hint then and there, but her spirits were too high for caution.

"It was great! I got a ninety-eight on my English test."

"That's great."

"We had a sub in math and didnn't have to do hardly anything."

"Bet that was nice."

"Mhmm, and we're having a pizza party Thursday, the entire class passed their exams so our homeroom teacher said we could. And Erica's mom said she could spend the night-"

"What?" Now she looked up.

"Erica's mom gave her permission to spend the night. I thought maybe we could do it Friday night, that way we don't have to get up early the next day. And I can drive her home."

"Her mom might've said ok, but I know _I _didn't." she snapped. Kelvin felt her confidence dwindle. The good day she'd had had fogged her mind and judgement. Now she was doubtful.

"Well, I know. I'm asking if it's okay."  
"No."  
"Why? She was here last week-"  
"Yes, and did you take out the trash? I must've asked you ten times, and I ended up having to do it myself." At this Kelvin looked down at the counter. It was true. It had slipped her mind. "Whenever you're around those girls you dont listen to a word I say. They're bad influence on you and I don't want you talking to them. How many times do I have to tell you? And Jessica. She still think you're her _'dorky girl'_?" she spat the last two words with such contempt, Kelvin had a bad feeling in her stomach. She could just tell. Still, she couldn't shut up.

"Mom, she didn't mean it in a bad way."  
"Oh wake up, Kelvin! How did she mean it then, huh? _Endearing_? She called you a dork!" _Well it's better than being called a bitch_, Kelvin thought. She bristled at the way her mother began throwing things around, setting the bowl down a little too harshly and dropping the potato peeler into the sink with a loud _'clunk'_.

"It's not bad."  
"Are you really that nieve? Do you even know what that means?" Kelvin wisely held back from saying her best friend Brett, whom she was fiercly foribben to speak to, called her a dork all the time- and it was, in fact, affectionetly. Her mom scoffed loudly and all but hurled the spoon she'd been using into the sink. "Oh, what do I know? I'm just old and stupid." The words, though not really directed at her, were the first blow. The guilt trip.

"No you're not, mom." she said softly.

"I must be, if you'd rather listen to some white trash slut than your own mother." More guilt welled up inside her. There were several examples of this on her right now; the black rubberband around her wrist, the blue eyeshadow she had on, blue nail polish, handcuff earrings, and a button on her bag with a picture of Johnny Depp in his famous role as Jask Sparrow. Her mother thought that, after seeing an episode of _George Lopez_, colored string bracelets, rubberbands, and plastic bangles had a sexual meaning, and she hated to see Kelvin wear them on her wrists. Kelvin's friend Monica had assured her that it was a specific _type_ of bracelet that held such a meaning, and that rubberbands were perfetly safe. Kelvin only wore them there for convinience, as she had rather long hair and was constantly losing rubberbands. Her mom also thought that blue nailpolish on her fingernails made her look gothic, and that 'goth' had spiritistic connections. Kelvin knew this had the _potential_ to be true, but Monica explained that nail polish had nothing to do with spiritism in itself. Sure, if she was dressed head to toe as a goth girl, it could be bad, but Kelvin wore a lot of blue. It was her favorite color. The polish meant nothing. The earrings had been hers for years, and she liked to wear them sometimes just because they actually worked. Nothing more. Above all else, Kelvin's mom hated violence. Violent movies and TV shows were expressly forbidden, and the woman even gave her lectures for watching shows such as Batman or Superman. Pirates, she had explained numerous times, were murderers. Did she want to glorify murderers? Did she think that was cool, to murder innocent people?

She didn't even have to say any of it right then, all the previous lectures sprang to mind immediantly.

"You're not stupid, mom." Kelvin said again. She moved closer to her mom and hugged her arms around her. Her mom turned to look at her, and she must've had a pretty bad day herself, because all she did was stare blankly back at her, making a point to leave her arms hanging limply at her sides. Kelvbin held on for a moment, grinding her teeth as she felt something deep within her stab her square in the chest. When her mom _did_ move, it was to snap the rubberband on her wrist. Kelvin didn't move.

"I have to make dinner, you know." she snapped again. "It would be done by now if you'd done your dishes last night, but _nooo_, I had to wake up to a door slamming and a dirty kitchen." Now Kelvin let go. She was in for it now and she knew it. She could've sworn she'd shut the door quietly that morning, but apparently she was wrong. "You don't do anything all day long but goof off and sit on your lazy butt. I ask you to do one simple thing and it's just _so hard_." Her voice was getting louder now. Kelvin was starting to feel the sharp nipping pain in her chest that was akin to that static-y feeling right before someone's struck by lightning. That foreboding feeling. Her mom went on, not needing another word from Kelvin. Her voice began o get more and more shrill, climbing in volume. Her movements got sharper, and she bustled around the kitchen forcefully, throwing things around and finally just throwing things. Screaming, hurling insults. Crying. Through it all, Kelvin sat at the counter, focusing on the fruitbasket in front of her, not saying a word. Not to defend her friends, not to defend herself, not to defuse. She let it all hit her like knives being thrown at her.

Kelvin had several very strange coping mechanisms. One was to picture a rolling object in her chest, like a ball of string. As long as it kept turning in the right direction, it couldn't unravel, and neither would she. Another, more destructive measure was to tell herself that she deserved this. In Kelvin's mind, she was beneath everyone around her. She wasn't good enough, never had been, and never would be. Everyone _around _her was important; she was not. She didn't deserve to be happy, she didn't deserve to have friends, and she certainly didn't deserve to have them over. Everything her mom had said was true. She listened to a lot of what Monica said. She _had_ gone to bed the night before without cleaning the kitchen. A lot of what she did at school was just messing around. She got light-headed a lot, and was always sitting down to wait out dizzy spells, but that must be because her body was used to just sitting around. What her mom didn't say, a little voice in her head did.

_**"Worthless. Pathetic. You're nothing. You're here to help everyone else. People come to you and tell you their problems, and you listen. You're the shoulder to cry on, you're the sounding board. Don't you EVER try to be anything else. You're not good enough. You're beneath them. Look what you did to your mom. Ungreatful, selfish little brat."**_ She'd sat there until her mother had declared Kelvin could make her own dinner and had stormed off to the garage. Kelvin had taken this oppritunity to slip into her bedroom, then into the bathroom with a very close friend.

Yet another coping mechanism she had, as well as one of the items on the list 'Things Wrong With Me', was that Kelvin was cutting herself. It had started out as an expariment earlier that year. Jessica cut herself to releave her issues with her boyfriend. Kelvin, however, was on a different scale. Jessica used a razor blade. Kelvin used an 'N' shapped nail with a very sharp point that she kept in that metal box. Jessica lined her shoulders and arms with deep cuts that bled heavily and left scars. Kelvin 'cat scratched', as she called it, under her shirt, just under her arms, in a place no one was likely to ever find out. At first, she had run a knife over her ankle. She hadn't even broken the skin. Knowing what a bad idea it was, she had confided in Jessica, Monica, and Brett. The girls did nothing. Jessica had actually laughed when she'd seen the tiny, almost nonexistant mark, as if it was cute. Monica had told her it was a bad idea, but acknowlaged that she didn't have a lot of room to talk, since she'd done it as well. Brett, on the other hand, had freaked out. He'd gone to the guidence coulser and had 'ratted her out', as Kelvin had called it then. After that had been settled, she'd been greatful. But she'd never stopped. She just stopped trying to get help.

And now, there she sat, in the dark, with the door locked and seven fresh lines on her ribcage, stinging like hell and oozing blood. But at least now she could breathe. She stopped bitting her fist and gave into the tears that were begining to fall anyway. She let them stream down her cheeks, trying hard not to cry too loudly, less she start another fight. She felt the makeup she wore being washed away, and she just knew she looked like shit. But she wasn't going anywhere, so who cared? She wished this was a movie, and that she could slip out the back door and run to Brett's house and cry to him, and that he'd hold her and comfort her, the way she'd had to do with Jessica earlier that week. She wished she could call him and tell him what had happened, the way Erica had called her, crying, after her dog had died. She wished someone would check on her, the way she did with Monica every now and then, to make sure she was alright. But the cold, brutal truth was that no one was there for her that way. She was a burden on her friends when she talked to them about this, and a burden to her mom when she tried to confide in her. No, Kelvin's problems were nobody's but her own. If this was how she had to deal with them, then so be it.

Awhile later, after she'd stopped crying, she stood up and turned on the light. She looked in the mirror, at the disgusting girl who peered back at her, and felt the contempt. Brown, lackluster eyes stared back at her, smeared eyeliner and blue eyeshadow, the coverup washed away by tears to reveal purple scars from acne that would never heal. A figure that wouldn't attract even a blind boy. Kelvin, although eighteen, was pretty much flat chested. Her arms were covered in scaly, red splotches that could be quite painful when her psoriasis was acting up. She covered them by wearing jackets all year round, no matter how hot it got. She looked down at her hands, and the tears stung her eyes again, because the palms of her hands were red and scarred, as were her fingertips. This was her own fault, she supposed, for not wearing gloves while she washed dishes in scalding hot water, but curiously enough, she didn't think that was where it had come from. It had come slowly, like a plague, covering one hand, fingertip by fingertip, until her fingerprints were pretty much gone. She couldn't feel anything anymore. What was worse, it seemed to be contagious. Her sister was starting to get it. What boy in his right mind would ever want to touch her? She wasn't just not pretty, she was repulsive. She was alone now, had been alone all along, and would have to stay that way, unless eh wanted to hurt someone. That was all she would ever do. Hurt people.

She washed her face and stormed off to her toom. Her dark, depressed mood was giving way to something else. She liked to consider this her Phoenix moment, where at least a tiny part of her arose from the ashes and forced her to keep going. Anger. Anger at herself, at her mother, at her friends for not caring, at everyone and everything. This, she didn't keep to herself, but she didn't exactly share it, either. There was one thing she was allowed to adore, almost obsess over, and that was Disney. She knew a great deal about the animated movies, about the characters, and one in particular she loved the most. Though it was one of the less popular movies, Kelvin absolutely loved _Treasure Planet_. In a way, it was her silent rebellion, since the movie feautred pirates. She also connected, in a way, to the main character. Jim Hawkins had lost his father when he was eight, and he obviously felt that missing something as well, and a lot stronger than she did. She had descovered fanfiction when she was thirteen, though for a different fandom. At fifteen, she had dabbled in writing a bit herself. Now, though, she poured out angst and horror into her fanfiction. She had an ongoing series, published under a false name. She didn't take it seriously, just something she did when she got angry.

There was someone she took her frustrations out on after all. It was days that ended like this that her fingers began to pound the keyboard rapid-fire, the only time when she expressed a side of her so gory, so dark, it made her sick. But it was only fiction. _Fan_fiction, and actually, other people seemed to _like_ it. The more she had Jim beat and betrayed, the more he fell down on his luck, the more her readers wanted. In her story '_Failings'_, Jim had an abusive stepfather. His mother out of the picture, dead on account of some illness, Jim dealt with the same pain she did, only on a greater scale. Locking her door to make sure she was left alone, Kelvin booted up her computer. After texting Erica that her mom had suggested maybe another time(white lies never seemed to snowball for her), she began.

_Jim didn't know Samuel was home..._

o~O~o

Jim winced as the pain filled his body. He waited until the heavy footfalls left the alley before he attempted standing up. Everything hurt. He let out a moan, accompanied by a cough which left blood spattering on his vest from his busted lip. Slowly, carefully, he got to his feet, leaning against the lamp post for support. Just his luck, it wasn't lit. The one night Morph had wandered off instead of staying with him. The brunette spat the blood out of his mouth and glanced around the darkening spaceport. Not a soul in sight, neither his assailants nor a constable. Not even a robocop. Of course not. And to top it off, they'd escaped, not only with the engine part he needed, but his change as well.

"_Perfect_." he muttered, and hissed as his still-tender knee reminded him sharply that this was the third time this month he'd been jumped. Tonight had been especially bad. He'd never known a boot to the face could hurt so much. Assuming that was a boot, and not a meat tenderizer. Heaving a sigh, the young man began the long, painful walk back to the small apartment he was renting.

All Jim could figure was that he had somehow upset some higher being. Things had been going alright for him. Ever since his now-famous journey to Treasure Planet, he'd really gotten his life together. He'd graduated from the Interstellar Academy, and had earned himself a high-paying job aboard one of the finest fleetships in the Emperial Navy. Things had been going so well for him. Then, out of the blue, he'd been accused of selling naval secrets to Pycron spies. He'd been taken to court, and thankfully he'd been able to pay a lawyer to clear his name, but by then it was too late. Word had spread fast of the affair, and in less than a week he'd gone from being the star cadet of the Etherial Navy, universally known hero, to a double-crossing rat. That had been a year ago. Ever since then his luck seemed to have been getting worse and worse. His mother had fallen on hard times as well, and had had to sell their beloved Benbow Inn. Delbert and Amelia had graciously taken her in, but she had told jim that she just couldn't stand the thught of being a burden to them. She was working three jobs just to support herself, but she had moved out and had a place to call her own again. Unfortunately, a relative of Amelia's had moved in with them, bringing with her three sons of her own. Added to the Doppler's four, that meant seven children and three adults, which equaled a full house. Which meant Delbert had had to ask Jim to leave as well. Which had resulted in Jim's scrounging for a job, and being homeless for quite some time, until he'd found the repair shop on a rather crowded spaceport. The pay was a mere fraction of what his navy job had paid, but Jim was glad to have it. He spent long hours fixing everything from skiffs to children's scooters, from age-old rickshaws to the strange, newfangled carriges that seemed to fall apart more often than their predecessors. It was hard work, and it was scarecly enough, but he was making due.

At least, he had been. He'd lost that month's rent because of the gangs that had begun to frequent the docks. His landlord was pretty pissed about it, but Jim had been able, by some miracle, to convince him to let him stay. They'd come to a compromise, and Jim had become the unpaid handyman of the complex. It seemed as though the only hours he didn't spend with a wrench in his hand were those when he was tossing and turning from those blasted nightmare. They weren't like normal nightmares, where you could wake up when you wanted to and escape them. No, he was trapped in them. He could never wake up while he was having them, not alone. What was more, he actually felt _pain_ in them. If he was hit with a two-by-four, he felt it. If he was slapped in the face, he awoke to a nasty bruise. It was as if he was trapped in an alternate reality during the night, and he woke the next morning just as exhausted as when he went to bed.

Jim stumbled over the threshold of his modest home, which he had come to call his rathole. It was a tiny one-room appartment, with the bed jammed up against one wall, a closet, and a small table against the far wall that held a wash basin, a ragged towel, and a cracked mirror, all of which Jim was threatened with death if the condition of which worsened in the slightest while in his posession. He sat down on the bed and pulled his worn boots off his feet before laying back, groaning loudly as his sore muscles made contact with the threadbare sheets. He had no idea whre Morph was. Usually the little guy was right by his side. Jim was convinced he'd come back sooner or later. He always did.

There was a sudden banging on his door that had Jim on his feet in an instant.

"Woods! You owe me money!" His pulse slowed when he heard those familiar words, even if they did bring dread. He was trying to save whatever he could of his meager earnings to get back to Montressor. Running a hand over his face and wincing as he brushed his lip, Jim emptied out the money he owed, then cracked the door open a bit.

"Here." he mumbled, handing it to the infuriated lizzard-like alien, who counted it quickly before storming off. Jim sank back down onto the matress, ignoring the pains in his stomach. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and he was starving, but he didn't have enough money to buy anything to eat now. What he hadn't had to use for rent, he'd lost to the muggers. Again.

In a fit of anger, Jim grabbed one of his boots off the floor and flung it at the wall. It didn't leave a mark, thank goodness, but it did help him feel a little better. He recalled an image from his bizzare dreams, one that brought an intense feeling of hate everytine he thought of it, though he had no idea why. He saw her in every nightmare, right before the pain started. Some kid, beant over a glowing square, tapping it with her fingertips as if it were a typewriter. He heard a voice which he could only guess to be hers, describing the situation he would soon find himself in. And then the voice faded and he'd be left to face whatever hell she'd dreamed up for him. It made him sick. He had no idea who she was, or even what she looked like, since her back was always to him, and she was always bundled up in baggy clothes. She sounded young, maybe even younger than him. Maybe it was stupid to take his agressions out on some weird figment of his imagination, some kid his subconcious had thought up. It was definetly something he'd never admit to anyone. He half wanted to strangle her in those dreams, make her pay for it, make her stop. If he could ever actually move in those dreams, he would. Blowing his overgrown, dirty hair out of his bloodshot eyes, Jim laid back down on the matress. It was stupid to let himself dwell on some weird dream.

Still.

A/N: Oh, and after Jim got so infamous, he goes by the false last name 'Woods'. Reviews appriciated.


	2. Masks

A/N: Shorter, I know :/ Exactly half as long as the previous chapter, if my computer is to be trusted. And I hate it. But it was written at two in the morning. Maybe I'll rewrite it later.

I own nothing from the Treasure Planet cannon, I own my OC's, plot, and the extent to which the cannon characters are OOC. Reviews appriciated, forgive my spelling.

-FDL

2. Masks

"Oh, please. Okay, little girl, go play somewhere else." Kelvin stared at Jessica, not able to comprehend what had just happened.

"_Excuse_ me?" she asked, not sure she'd heard her right. Jessica flicker her shoulder-length blak hair over her shoulder and smiled at her in a way Kelvin had hoped she never would. She'd known Jessica for several years. When she got really pissed off, she turned into a catty, plastic girl who was out for revenge. But she hadn't done anything. Actually, that was the problem. "I told you, I couldn't get online. Our internet-"

"Well then you should've told me to find someone else!" Jessica snapped. Kelvin would rather be bitten by a snake. Jessica was one of the first friends she'd had in a long time.

"I thought I could, it wasn't my-"

"Whatever, I have other things to take care of right now that are more important." All said with a smug, sickeningly sweet tone and a smile that she could see right through. If she didn't need her one day to hopefully get out of the house, Kelvin would have punched her. Anyone else would have, given all the times Jessica had asked Kelvin to help her talk to other boys _besides_ the father of her baby girl, all the times she'd called her crying, all the times she'd used her. But she didn't. Kelvin hung her head and managed a weak,

"Okay." Jessica stalked off, probably to talk shit about her to her friends or on her myspace page. Kelvin pictured the rolling ball of string again. She had to keep moving. Had to keep going. School hadn't even started yet, she didn't have time to feel sorry for herself. She forced herself to breathe normally, then left her locker. Walking around the corner, she spotted the school guidence counsler. The woman gave her a concerned look.

"Hello Kelly, how are you?" Kelvin straightened up and smiled as brightly as she could manage.

"I'm great! We just got a new dog, she's _sooo_ cute!" It worked, like always. The woman smiled back at her.

"That's great. What kind?" As Kelvin talked more and more about the great dane they'd found, she remembered perfectly how the woman had reacted to the news of her cutting.

Brett had been pissed. The entire day, he'd barely spoken to her, and when he had, he wouldn't look at her. Finally she'd written him a note in class. He'd confirmed her suspicions, chewing her out about cutting, in responses that were pretty much carved into the paper. The more she'd tried to get him to calm down, the madder he'd gotten, until finally he'd asked to go to the bathroom. He hadn't, of course. He'd gone straight to the counsler. Not two minutes after he'd gotten back to class, she'd been called out. She would never forget it. She thought she might actually get some peace of mind. That's what the school was paying her for, after all. To help kids like her. So when she'd asked why Kelly had cut herself, she'd been ready to talk. Ready to ask for help, to try and get rid of all the horrible feelings she'd burried for so long.

Then she'd looked up.

Kelvin had grown up reading people. Their attitudes, their body language, their tone of voice told her everything she needed to know. She could play someone like a harp if she wanted to. But when she looked up, what she saw changed her mind in an instant. The same distant look she got from her mother sometimes. The glassy-eyed, 'I-don't-give-a-shit' look. That was when she realized this woman didn't really care, didn't want to know her, didn't want to help. She did this for money. That was all. So Kelvin clamed up, claimed she had just been exparimenting, and that it would never happen again. That hadn't been the end of it, of course, since the woman had made her tell her parents(she'd had to repeat herself then, too, because her mother's husband hadn't been paying attention the first time), but that glimpse had prepared her. They didn't care. They didn't want to know. So she just wouldn't waste their time.

The bell rang, and the counsler urged her to go to class. Kelvin scampered off to her first class of the day, avoiding Jessica as she sat down. She was glad Brett had moved; he was the one person who always saw right through her masks. Everyone else was totally fooled by them.

As the teacher walked to the front of the room and began the daily lecture, she slipped out a second notebook. Usually, she waited until she got home, but sometimes, she just needed to vent. She grabbed her pencil and began doodling on the top margin of the paper, trying to decide where to pick up. Having made up her mind, she skipped down two lines and began.

_Samuel didn't let him go anywhere. The only times Jim was allowed out of the apartment was to go to school or to the store, should they need anything, and even then Samuel mostly went himself. Jim knew that, even though the doors and windows weren't locked, they might as well be. If he so much as set one foot out that door, he was in for it. It was always so tempting, though. The sight of his solar-surfer leaning casually against the wall next to the door, inviting, innocent. He licked his lips, his eyes flickered towards Samuel's room. It was late in the night. If he was quiet, maybe he could...? He crept closer to the door, close enough for his fingertips to graze the polished metal surface of his surfer. He could already feel the wind in his hair, hear it whistling past his ears, feel his heart pounding. To be in the air again, for however long, would be his saving grace. He picked up the board and turned the knob, quickly and quietly, and he was out. Once outside the door, he stared at it in disbelief. He was out. __**He's gonna kill me**__, he thought, and his knees began to tremble. Maybe he wouldn't be mad if he went back inside on his own. Jim felt his heart began to race as he turned on his heel, running down the hallway and out of the building. The temptation was too great. He kept running, down the street and through the center of town, until cobblestones gave way to dirt roads. It was hard to see this late at night, but he was fairly certain of where he was. Using the stars above, he navagated his way to what had once been a quary. Hulking mountains and deep vallies were crossed with small ravines, sparse foliage just begining to come back to life. Hands trembling, Jim set the board down on the ground and raised the sail. He had no idea how much solar power was still stored in the energy reserves, but when he pressed down on the accelorator, the surfer sprang to life. The sail glowed like a torch in the dark night, barely enough to light his way. After picking up some speed, he shot off down one of the trails, slowly climbing higher and higher into the sky._

_It was his fault, of course. Everything was. If he'd been smart enough to bring a flashlight or something, he would have seen the security beam before it was too late. The surfer went through it, splintering the wood, and a light began to flash. Jim was so into his ride, he didn't even notice. Until, unfortunately, a set off flashing lights appeared behind him._

Kelvin drew three stars in the center of the page and chewed on the clip of her mechanical pencil. Should she give him a break? Before she could decide, the bell rang. She had packed up her stuff and was on her way out the door when her teacher stopped her.

"Did you turn in your notes?" he asked. By the look on his face, she knew she didn't need to answer. But she did anyway.

"No."  
"Why not?"  
"Didn't take any."  
"I saw you writing. What were you writing if you weren't taking notes?"  
"I was finishing homework for my next class."

"We don't do that here, Miss Phillips. Next time I want you taking notes." She nodded briefly before walking hurridly down the hall. He didn't care whether or not she took notes. She could hand in a piece of paper that had nothing but her name at the top and he wouldn't say anything. She knew this because she'd done so several times. She didn't need to take notes in his class anyway. She had her own study system, and when they had a test coming up, she could manage just fine. The rest of the kids in her class had it made. Since hers was a class of only twenty kids, most of them having grown up with each other, they were a tight-knit group. When tests came around, they all passed, because they all cheated. Even though their teacher walked around, making sure they weren't, there were ways. A message sent out to a chatroom, of which everyone but three of them were a part of, a notebook with the answers scribbled down that was kicked around during the test, even talking. Kelvin was one of the other three, one that carried her own weight. She was a wallflower, and things were just better that way. She couldn't 'get involved', as her mother put it, with any of them anyway. Outside of school, Kelvin didn't go anywhere, didn't do anything. She rarely left the house. That was just fine with the rest of them, since she'd somehow made a bad impression already. What was really her shy, timid nature, they took for snobbery. She was cautious, quiet, and scared to death. They ignored her, and that was fine.

_I won't be around much longer, anyway_, Kelvin thought as she slid into her seat at the back of the class. She had thoughts like that all the time. It wasn't that she wanted to take her own life. She didn't want to die. They were just things that popped into her mind on a regular basis. In her bathroom at home she could easily tie her belt into a noose and hang herself from the rod in her closet. She could slit her wrists. She knew of several chemical compounds that could be fatal. She saw the ways she could do it, acknowlaged them, but she didn't want that. She was scared and lonely, but she wasn't that selfish. She _would_ be missed. Death might solve her problems, but in the end it would be the exact opposite of what she wanted; not to be a burden to anyone.

It wasn't too long before her class fell into it's usual lull, and Kelvin began to get distracted. She snuck out her notebook and picked the story up once again. She hadn't gotten any reviews in awhile. Maybe she could get some with this.

o~O~o

Jim sat up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. He could have sworn his neighbor on either side of him could hear the pounding of his heart. he looked around wildly, fumbling for the lantern beside the bed. He turned it on, and as soon as the shadows dissapeared, so did his panic. He sat back in his bed, blinking. Another nightmare. He bit his lip as he pulled his shirt over his head with shaking hands. The cool air in the room left his skin pimpled and clammy, but he shivered for a different reason. Carefully, gingerly, he climbed out of his bed, shifting his weight foreward as he did so. He glanced in the damaged mirror, sucking his teeth as he stared at the angry marks that covered his back. They were burning, the welts still a deep pink. He undid his pants and let them fall, noting that the new marks went all the way down his back, disapearing under the hem of his underwear and appeared again at his thighs. That man, whoever he was, had been angry. Livid, in fact. Jim swallowed as those words echoed through his mind. "_I'm gonna beat you with your own belt!"_ And it would seem he had. Jim glanced up at the sound of a worried coo to see Morph whimpering in sympathy. He offered a smile.

"Hey, Morphy. I'm alright." he said lightly, pulling his pants up. "See?" He wiggled his shoulders to prove his point but bit his tongue to hold back a yelp. Morph turned into a cold, damp rag, dabbing at the welts carefully. Jim closed his eyes, digging his nails into his palms. "Thank you, Morph." The shapeshifter had seem him worse. Jim had no idea what he'd done, but he'd had worse before. He'd woke up one morning coughing up blood, and that had terrified him.

When he'd first started waking to these wounds, inflicted in a dream, he hadn't known what to do. One the one hand, it was unnerving, to say the least, and there had to be some explanation for it. On the other, it was unheard of. Nightmares were simply dreams that were caused by the part of the subconcious that dealt with fear. It was brain activity. That's what dreams were, and that was all they were. All he could figgure was that he'd been sleepwalking and had done this to himself. He'd tested this theory, however, having Morph watch him while he slept with instructions to wake him up if that was what was going on. The blob had depicted Jim as having slept peacefully, with the exception of moaning and whimpering in his sleep. The marks just seemed to come by themselves. He'd almost told someone once. He'd considered asking Delbert what it meant, if he possibly knew what was going on. He'd decided against it in the long run because he'd had to leave Montressor.

Laying down on his stomach, Jim went back to bed. Through the crack in the shutters, he could just barely make out the starry skies beyond the port. The tiny twinkling lights calmed him, and soon he turned the lamp down once again. He'd stopped turning it off at night. It saved him time if he didn't have to relight it every time he had a nightmare. Between the night sky and the soothing feeling of the cloth on his back, Jim was lulled back to sleep. But not before he spotted a single star, falling from it's original place in the heavens.

"I wish I could make it stop." he whispered, before sleep took him once more. He didn't see that star begining to shine more brightly, with a slightly blueish hue...


	3. Breaking Point

a/n: I own nothing but the fic itself, I apologize for any disturbing OOC-ness, and characters (C) Their respective owners/influencing muses. Personally I wanted to drag out Kelvin's pain a bit more before this point, but to be honest, it's very depressing to write. And there's not enough Jim. Sorry it's so choppy, I may come back and flesh it out more later, but I wanted to get to the two of them 'meeting' already. Also, forgive my horrible set-up and spelling.

And to my very first reviewer for this story, Kylie, thank you sooo much for your kind words :) Seeing that drove me to get back to writing it. I dedicate this chapter to you. Hopefully that doesn't seem like an insult...

-FDL

3. Breaking Point

Kelvin flinched as the sound of breaking glass reached her ears, pausing momentarily in her frantic pacing. Her hands closed ever tighter around her ears, and she mumbled just a bit louder to ignore the yelling. She should be in bed already, and she knew it, but it was impossible to sleep. She'd just end up shaking all over again. She wouldn't sleep. She'd just lay there and cry.

"Gonna be alright, 's gonna be okay," she muttered, moving her hands to shakily run them through her hair. The yelling had gotten quieter, but she could still hear it. They must have gone outside. Something slammed into the wall, and Kelvin pictured the garage, normally a maze of boxes and storage, being torn into. It was her mother throwing things, she knew. She didn't want to picture her dad. _Stepdad,_ she corrected herself. Somewhere inside her, the ball of string was unravelling. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see his face, red with anger, and hear him yelling at her. _"Who the hell do you think you are?!"_

_I'm nothing. I'm a mistake._ Kelvin swallowed as she let the voice in her head get louder. Why fight it anymore? What was she even fighting for, to keep from hurting? She already hurt. So what was the point?

_**Damn right you are.**_

_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._

_**You're sorry? You think that can fix anything? You think if you run out there and say I'm sorry, it's going to heal them?**_

_It's not my fault._

_**Yes, it is! All of this, all of their problems, are because of you!**_

Kelvin pressed her back against the wall and sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. In reality, she really hadn't done anything. She'd come home, and had started on her homework. After dinner, she'd done her chores. And then she'd made a mistake. She'd had feelings. Her mind had been focused on how Jessica had acted. She'd had awhile to think about it by then, and she was starting to get mad. How dare she? Kelvin didn't owe her a thing. All those times she'd been there for her friend, and now, just because she couldn't post pictures on her stupid Facebook, that she'd fucked up _herself_, Kelvin got screwed over for it? It was beginning to piss her off. The more she thought about it, the madder she got, and the more sudden her movements got. She was cleaning off the counter top, making sharp circle movements. Her hand smacked into something near the sink, and down went the tiny crystal vase. It hit the sink, and shattered. Kelvin stared at it, wide-eyed, her breath caught in her throat. _Shit!_ She picked up the pieces as her mother walked into the kitchen.

"What happened?" she asked, and Kelvin showed her. Her mother looked dismayed, on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry, mom."  
"It's alright, Kelly."  
"I didn't mean to."  
"Didn't mean to what?" That was her dad. When he saw the broken vase in her hands, his jaw set and he looked at her heatedly. "You broke it, didn't you? You know that cost me twenty bucks?"

"I didn't mean"  
"You didn't mean to. Well, you never mean to, do you? No, you just care about yourself. Nevermind if your mother can't have anything nice-"  
"David!" Her mother suddenly shouted. "Leave her alone!"  
"She's the one who's been stomping around the house ever since she got home. If she had better control of her attitude, then maybe she wouldn't have wrecked it."

"Oh, you're one to talk."  
"Excuse me?" And so it had begun. An argument that had slowly turned into yelling and fighting. It was hard enough, being stuck in the kitchen while it happened, since they were blocking her way out. After her mother had stormed off the first time, he'd turned on Kelvin, and pointed a finger at her accusingly.

"See what you did? Do you see what you're doing to her? Oh, but you love her. Yeah, you really know how to show it." As he'd gone after her mother, Kelvin had limped back to her bedroom. She felt terrible. Deep down, she knew none of it was her fault. Jessica, her parents, none of it was because of anything she'd done. But everyone liked to blame her. In her mind, Kelvin had tried to reason it out. There had to be a reason everything was pinned on her when things got ugly. The only reason she could come up with was that she really was a terrible person, and she just didn't see it. Or chose not to.

Kelvin started to rock back and forth, her fingers taptaptaping away on her ribcage, eyes staring blankly ahead as her tears continued to fall. Her throat was starting to close up. Getting to her feet, she fumbled through a box on her dresser until she found the nail. She reached under her shirt, under her bra and jerked the sharp end over her skin. The biting pain shook her from her twisted thoughts, and she did it again. Her throat began to open a little more. Twice more and she had stopped shaking. A final cut, and she had stopped crying. When she dropped the nail back into the box, her hand came away spattered with blood. Kelvin wasn't worried. The marks would be red and sore for a few days, but so far she hadn't had scars left behind, and no one would ever see that part of her body anyway. Even if they did, who cared? It was _her_ body. She'd mutilate it if she wanted to.

Suddenly, someone jerked her doorknob. After realizing it was locked, they began pounding, hard.

"Kelvin!" It was her stepdad's voice. She hurriedly opened the door. He glared at her. "Did you hear that?" She nodded. "I didn't deserve that. I didn't do anything to have her attack me like that. That was all you and your attitude." The ball started to roll again. She pushed it faster. "Your mother is _sick_. Do you understand that? She can't handle this kind of stress right now, it only makes her even worse. And you go on with your life, not caring if you hurt her. You're _killing_ her. And I am _not_ going to stand by and watch you do that." Kelvin gripped the doorknob tight in her hand, biting back her words. It wasn't the first time she'd been told that her mother's cancer had been caused by her. He walked away after that, without so much as a backward glance. She shut her door once again, though she still gripped the knob. How could she be such a horrible person? After everything she tried to do, no matter how hard she tried to help, she was only ever hurting people. People she loved, who loved her. Or, who tried to. Somewhere inside her Kelvin knew that people didn't treat others they loved this way. They didn't rip them apart the way her family did.

_Let go. Just let go_. Let go of the pain, of the trouble, of all the heartache. She couldn't take it anymore.

In an hour, Kelvin sat in front of her computer. The house hand long since gone silent. She was dressed in dark jeans, a black hooded sweatshirt, black boots. By her feet rested a backpack, packed and ready to go. In front of her, the screen of her computer glowed. As a writer, Kelvin valued words. The valued their meaning, their weight, their power. She didn't think she'd get far, she might not even go at all, and if she did she highly doubted anyone would want a note explaining how she justified being so selfish. Still. It made her sick to think she couldn't leave one, or at least write one. So she was sitting there, staring at the little blinking line, trying to summon the words to say goodbye. Outside it had started to rain, and lightning was flashing outside.

o~O~o

Jim stared out the tiny window to his room, watching as lightning flashed across the gray, clouded sky. The storm had blown in out of nowhere, as was normal for spaceports, but this storm seemed...different. He couldn't put his finger on it. That is, not until he felt himself drifting into an all-too-familiar sensation. He groaned, forcing his eyes to remain open. Cupping his hands, he splashed some of the water in the wash basin on his face in an attempt to ward off the sudden fatigue. He was really not in the mood for this right now. Just when his situation couldn't have been any worse. Or so he thought. He'd lost his job due to an accidental mixup of the customer's orders. It was his fault, though he had no idea how he could have misplaced the order forms. It had to be the overwhelming fatigue he was feeling. In the morning, he'd have to find a new job, at the very least somewhere to stay. His things were already packed. He'd have been evicted that night if not for the storm. In years prior to his time here, spacers had been known to be struck by lighting often enough for a law to be passed that no innkeeper was to refuse shelter to someone in need. Jim just hoped the weather would continue through the night. He had no intentions of roaming the streets in the dark.

The fuzzy feeling in his head was getting worse. He was already exhausted, but he knew trying to sleep with the nightmares that awaited him would be futile. They'd been coming less and less as of late, for some reason, but at the same time they were getting worse. The week before he'd awoken with marks of rope burn around his neck. A few days ago, he'd bled from a shallow gash on his wrist. He'd been avoiding sleep ever since, afraid he'd stop waking up at all. It was starting to take its toll on him.

Jim laid back on the bed as the sounds from the raging storm outside began to grow fainter. Everything around him seemed to be getting distant. Suddenly, there was no noise at all. Even Morph's quiet snoring was muted. That was when he knew he'd lapsed into sleep. _Please, please, please, PLEASE don't come tonight please don't come, don't come_, he prayed desperately, dreading what had become routine.

But her voice didn't come.

Instead, a strange, glowing, blue orb floated through the window, illuminating the tiny, dark room. He sat up, shielding his eyes with his hand as the light grew brighter, then dulled to a faint glow. When he lowered his hand, he was surprised by what he saw.

It was a woman. She was fairly tall, with short blonde hair curling at th base of her neck. Her slender body was clothed, shoulders to floor, in a light blue dress. Soft, clear blue eyes gazed back at him warmly. She was very beautiful.

This was turning out to be a pretty weird dream, weirder than normal. The woman in blue moved closer to him, and he realized she had wings. Small, round, and the perfect blue to match her dress. _She's a fairy_.

"You've been having to deal with someone else's pain for a very long time, haven't you?" Her voice was soft and comforting, ringing with understanding. He nodded, trying to look her in the eye, but she seemed to be glowing. He couldn't look at her face very long, an so instead he looked down at the ground.

"Someone else?" he repeated. He didn't know what she was getting at. She waved something in her hand- he realized she was holding a wand- and to mind came all the bad things that had happened to him ever since he'd been accused of being a double agent. Losing the Inn, his job, practically everything he'd worked so hard to achieve. Still, those were his problems. Weren't they?

"Just because you've only seen the problems they've caused you doesn't mean you were at fault." He looked up, only to shield his eyes from her radiance again. He looked away.

"What're you talking about? Who's doing this then? If it's not my fault, then who-" Unbidden came that voice again. That damned girl. He turned toward her voice and realized that his room at the inn had disappeared. All around them were dark, thick shadows. He saw her form emerging from the black void, saw her hands hovering over the square, as if waiting.

"She never meant you any harm," the Blue Fairy spoke again. "She didn't know you would suffer." Jim tensed his jaw, felt his hands clenching into fists.

"It's her? All...all of it was..._her_?"

"She needed you. She was reckless and she didn't consider the consequences of her actions. Yes, all your trials have occurred because of her." The girls hands moved away from the square, moving to her head. She seemed to be gripping it tightly, as if she had a headache. Another wave of the wand, and the girl's voice grew louder. He wasn't hearing what he normally did. No, this wasn't about him. It was about _her_.

_"...I didn't mean to cause so many problems, and I know you tried your hardest. I can't be what you want me to be. As selfish and ungrateful as it may seem, I'm doing this to help you. You don't have to take care of me anymore. It's better this way..."_

Her voice faded again and he realized she was crying. A suicide note. That was what it sounded like. Who _was_ this girl? And yet, even though it was obvious she really was in pain, Jim couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for her. He resisted the urge to grab her and snap her neck.

"Is that what you want?" A softer voice interrupted his thoughts. He remembered the Blue Fairy, and was suddenly ashamed. It seemed as though she could read his mind. "To repay her for the way she's wronged you?" It briefly crossed his mind all the stories he'd heard before of spacers encountering enchanted beings such as this woman before him, about questions they'd been asked similar to this. Legends that were told to children to ward off selfish, cruel behavior. And that's exactly how he would've described his intentions.

Yet he couldn't bring himself to object.

"I want to make her pay." he said, turning his heated glare on the girl once more. Her pitiful form had gotten clearer, and he saw for the first time that she had very long, brown hair that was pulled back into a winding braid. He could actually tell the different colors of the clothes she wore. It was almost as if she was right there with them in this bizarre dream. Suddenly, she vanished.

"If you wish it." the Blue Fairy said, and with another wave of her wand, everything returned to the way it had been. The room at the Inn was just the same as it had always been. The small orb of light hovered in the window. "If you wish it, so it will be. I can give her into your care. She has wronged you, and unjustly so. Should you accept, your life shall return to the way it was." Jim's heart leapt into his throat. He couldn't believe it.

"What? You mean...everything, back the way it's supposed to be?"  
"The traces of your strife shall be erased day by day. All will return to the way it should be." Though her physical appearance was but a ball of light, he could hear a smile in her voice. "Your mother's inn, your job, your reputation included." A wave of relief washed over him. He thought of the impending job he'd been offered before the accusation, the opportunities he'd have had. And his mother, she wouldn't have to run herself ragged to support herself. Their home would be theirs again. Suddenly, his smile fell. It was too good to be true, even for a dream.

"But?" he asked cautiously. "There's a catch, isn't there?"

"If you are to return to your life before the girl, she must remain in your care. She must remain with you." He felt his body tensing up again. After everything she'd put him through, there was no way in hell he was going to pamper her like some sort of queen. "I wouldn't expect you to." Jim winced.

"I...I really couldn't."

"The girl must only remain with you. What her place becomes is for you to decide. If you wish it." In a fainter flash, the light was gone. Jim ran to the window and looked up at the sky, which had cleared during the visit of the Blue Fairy. High in the sky, he saw a star shining more brilliantly than it's neighbors. He pushed his disheveled hair out of his face, drawing in a deep breath. His life back. His reputation. More importantly, his peace of mind. And that wretch, the cause of it all, under his thumb. His mind was made up. In hushed words, he mumbled a wish, and when the last had left his lips, the star shone brighter, and then disappeared. A moment of pure silence fell over him. He felt calm.

And then something banged on the door.

"Storm's over, Woods! Get out!"


	4. Vanishing Act

A/N: Finally. (Short, I know, but I thought this should be published by itself.)

4. Vanishing Act

Kelvin was careful not to make a sound as she slipped outside. Everyone, as far as she knew, was asleep, and even if someone was awake, the noise of the storm would drown her out anyway. In minutes, she was at the end of her driveway, running as fast as she could. It was stupid, she knew that before she'd printed her note. It was a twenty-minute drive to town, and she was on foot. It was pouring down outside, in the middle of the night. She'd probably get two blocks, wimp out, go home, and end up with pneumonia. For some reason, she went anyway. At the very least, running would help clear her head. And if she did end up sick, maybe people would take pity on her and just leave her alone.

The truth was, Kelvin wasn't thinking. She didn't think to grab her cellphone or any money, or even her house key. All she wanted was to get out, to get away. She ran down the gravel drive, and hopped the fence in a moment. Then she was on the winding road that led, in one direction, up the coast, and in the other, towards town. She turned downhill. With every step, the painful words echoed in her head. She forced them through over and over again, forcing herself to accept them. So what if they were true? She'd become calloused.

Then there was a light. Far down the road, just sitting there. Still. Kelvin froze, peering through the rain, her breath coming in ragged gasps. It wasn't the headlights of a car, since there was only one. A bike maybe? Or a flashlight? For a moment she thought that it was someone looking for her, her parents perhaps. That they'd noticed she was missing that quickly. She banished the thought upon realizing it was in the wrong direction. She was standing there, wondering what she should do, when it moved. Just a flicker, if she'd blinked she'd have missed it. Then again. It began bobbing up and down, and she realized it was moving towards her. Chills raced up her spine, and she suddenly remembered she was on a pretty much deserted road, in the middle of the night, and nobody knew.

'"H-hello?" she called out. The light got closer. "What do you want?" She shouted, a bit more forcefully. The light paused for a moment. When it began to move again, it was faster, smoother. Whoever it was, they were running for her. Kelvin turned on her heel and ran, her heart in her throat. Around her, the road began to reflect the light, and she knew it had drawn closer. She turned sharply, crashing through the brush and trees blindly. Overhead, lightning flashed, before plunging her into darkness. panicked and momentarily blinded, Kelvin whirled around. Of the strange light, there was no sign. Her heart pounded away in her chest. Thunder cracked like a whip, causing her to jump. She let out a strangled sob as she realized she had no idea which way the road was. Her teeth began to rattle, and a chill worked it's way through her body. Slowly, she started to work her way through the brush, hopefully in the way she'd come. Several moments later, though, she again saw the light. It was again behind her, closing in on her. She began to run once more, and glanced over her shoulder. There was nothing there. However, just as she turned around, she realized it was now in front of her. Desperately, she tried to stop, but tripped on something. She gasped as she fell, headlong, into the faintly blue light.

Seconds later, when lightning once again lit up the night, there was nothing there but foliage.


	5. Familiar

A/N: Insectians are bugs, Ranids are frogs/toads, and Lacertilians are lizards. Different variations for each race, but I only decided to get creative with the names after the bugs. . Forgive my lack of talent. I honestly can do better than this.

Mai: Thank you so much for taking the time to review my fanfiction! I had two sent in that were marked 'Guest', maybe those were yours as well? (if they weren't, then a shout out to that person/ those people as well :) ) I'm glad you're enjoying my twist on the female insert take, hope you continue to enjoy!

xx-Luciexx: Thanks for the favorite! Hope you're not disappointed :)

LokiTheDemi-God: Thanks for following!

5. Familiar

Kelvin was doing everything in her power to stay calm. She didn't have any idea where she was. The last thing she remembered was tripping and falling in the woods. It wasn't the moist earth that met her knees, however. Cobblestones, slick with rain, had appeared out of nowhere. The thunder still roared, accompanied suddenly by the sounds of hooves clattering, shouting voices, and a baby crying. She'd looked up, and bit back a scream as she caught sight of the strangest creature she'd ever seen. It had a serpentine body, with two hind legs on either side. It's back arched in an 'S' shape, and it was loping through the downpour, aided by two long, bony arms that ended in three-clawed hands. There was no head visible, but two eyes perched on the ledge of what she could only hope was it's mouth. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling backwards until her back bumped into a brick wall. Her eyes widened when she noticed a mantis-like creature staring at her. It cocked it's head to one side, then called out to her.

"Are you alright, lad?" Kelvin stared at him(it sounded male), slack-jawed. Unable to say anything back, she merely nodded her head. MantisMan watched her for a moment or so more, then, shaking his head, walked away, going about his own business again. Kelvin remained where she stood, frozen in fear. There were dozens of strange looking creatures meandering along the street, shielding themselves from the weather with everything from cloaks to what looked like newspapers. A few children were playing nearby, unaffected by the rain. It was hardly surprising, since they bore a strong resemblance to frogs. Kelvin slunk further along the wall, retreating to an alley between two buildings. She huddled in the cramped space, under the roof, and reached to pull her hood over her head before realizing it was already up. _That would explain being called a boy_, she thought. Glancing again at the frog-children, she noted that two of them had short hair, one with pigtails, the other a ponytail. The third had long hair held back in a braid. All girls, and not one of them wearing shorts, despite the warm air. In fact, none of the creatures that bore any resemblance to females wore pants of any kind. Always dresses or skirt, the styles of which reminded her an awful lot of the Renaissance books she'd read. Nowhere in sight were there any humans, although it didn't seem like she was the only one, since several passersby had acknowledged her, either by sideways glances or dirty looks, as opposed to her reaction to them. There was something familiar about it all, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Hey! Get away from there!" someone shouted, and Kelvin yelped as a dog-like man came running at her, swatting at her with the bristle-end of a broom. Once again, she ducked out into the street and ran. Her boots made sucking noises with every step, and she was soaked by now, but these things were of little concern to her. Overhead, something flew by. When she looked up, what she saw made her stumble yet again. It looked astonishingly similar to a manta ray, but it made noises like a seagull. Kelvin had seen them before. She watched it land on a shop sign and huddle close to the wall, out of the storm.

Mantabirds.

"Son of a _bitch_."

o~O~o

Jim was stunned by how quickly his luck seemed to have changed. After spending a long, cold, damp night on a park bench, he'd awoken to find a brand new, thick, warm, and surprisingly dry coat draped over him. It was so similar to one he'd had before that for a moment he thought it _was _his old jacket. He had no idea where it came from, but after waiting around half the morning for someone to speak up, he decided to keep it. He pulled it on, and though he'd spent the night on a hard iron bench, he didn't feel sore or stiff at all. He felt well rested, refreshed, and warm.

It was then that he remembered the Blue Fairy and her proposition, and his answer. He paused mid-step and looked around, but he didn't see anyone who looked remotely close to the wench. Actually, there weren't many Terrans on this particular spaceport. It was home to various species of Insectians, Ranids, and Lacertilians, the latter of which seemed to dominate the upper class. The weather was normally humid and murky, the small planet itself not unlike a swamp. Terrans tended to avoid staying any longer than necessary. Jim was on his way to the docks to see if he could find a new job, and hopefully get enough money to get away from it himself.

As his newfound luck would have it, he needn't search very long. As he was passing through the market street of the port, he spotted a pub he hadn't noticed before. Thinking of getting something to eat, he went inside and sat down. Almost immediately, a loud argument broke out in the kitchen area, and not a moment later out stormed a Lacertilian man, his lizard-like tail slashing madly behind him. He was followed shortly after by a Felid woman, who, after looking him over, walked over to Jim and asked if he had any experience as a busboy.

And so on his day went. His newfound job, while only temporary, came with a room and free meals. Morph seemed to like this new arrangement quite a bit, cooing at the soft, clean bed before curling up on the pillow. Though he would have loved to have done the same, Jim knew he had to go out and look for the girl. He didn't know how he knew it, but he had a gut feeling she was close by. Where she had come from, how she'd gotten here, he didn't know, nor did he care. He just knew what he'd promised, in a way. That she would stay with him. First of course he'd have to find her. So after splashing some water on his face, it was back out into the town, looking for another Terran. He asked around, described her as much as he could, but no one seemed to know what he was talking about. That was fine with him. He was in no rush to meet the bitch responsible for his life being torn apart, his dreams going up in smoke.

As he walked, he tried to think of what he would do if and when he actually found her. He wondered how he should approach this. He'd had half a night and a full day to think about it, but he still wasn't sure. On the one hand, everything depended on keeping her with him. He couldn't very well grab her and tie her up in plain sight. No, he had to play her just right. It made his stomach churn to think he might actually have to be nice to her to some extent, but so far, it didn't look like he had a choice. Not for long, though. Undoubtably, she would recognize him at some point. He wasn't sure yet if that would help him or hurt him. She wasn't from here, he already knew, judging by her style of dress and the glowing square he always saw her with in his dreams. She might trust him more than she would a complete stranger, if he seemed familiar to her. And since he strongly doubted she knew anyone else on the planet, she wouldn't really have any choice but to come with him.

Then there was the issue of the writing. All the things that she'd written about had resulted in his sleep deprivation, as well as his life crumbling to pieces. If she knew that she held that kind of power, there was no telling what she would do. He hoped she didn't know.

A scream roused him from his thoughts, and Jim turned just as a cab driver pulled back on the reins, causing the animal pulling the coach to rear up on its hind legs, its paws flailing in the air. The cabbie shouted something in a clipped alien language at the body that blocked his path, which raised an arm in her defense as he drew his whip back, as if to strike at her. Jim had the impulse to run to her side, to stop the man, but he hesitated. He had no doubt it was her. Her body was that of a Terran. Women didn't wear pants, generally, and her long hair, cascading out of the hood she wore, made it impossible to mistake her for a boy. She scrambled to her feet, just narrowly avoiding the lashing, and the cabbie spurred his coach onward. She slumped against a lamp post, pulling the hood of her jacket up over her head. The sun had set by now, disappearing beneath the horizon line, taking with it it's warmth. The sky was growing darker by the minute. The planet was beginning to plunge into another cold, dark night. Jim could tell by the small clouds of fog in front of her mouth that she was breathing hard.

She started moving again, keeping her head down and weaving through the crowds. Jim kept pace with her, staying on the opposite side of the street. She got numerous looks from the locals, if not for her clothes then simply because she was a Terran. There weren't many on the planet, and the few that were weren't trusted easily. She never once looked back. Jim didn't have a problem keeping an eye on her. She seemed shorter than him, though how much so he couldn't tell because of the way she was hunched over. Her body language told him she was scared, vulnerable, and definitely lost. She'd stop at every crossroad and look around like she was looking for something, but she never wavered from her course. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Jim noticed she was getting closer and closer to the docks. There were several taverns close by, as well as a few brothels. Dressed the way she was, she was sure to catch some unwanted attention. He had to get her off the streets. Jim had just crossed over to the other side of the road when a hulking, crocodile like man stepped from the shadows, blocking her path. Unlike most of the residents, his clothes were loose about his lean, muscular frame. Breeches ended at the knee, belted with a piece of rope, and he went barefoot. The sleeves of his shirt had been ripped off, and his thick, strong arms were bare. He was obviously a spacer. There were very few people around this part of town, especially at night. Jim rolled his eyes, mentally berating her for her lack of foresight. Keeping close to the shadows, Jim drew closer, and neither seemed to notice him when he moved within earshot.

"So what do ya say, lassie? Why doncha come with me?" He'd gotten her pinned between him and the locked door of one of the shops, one arm barring her escape route, tracing her jaw with one clawed finger. She jerked her head away from him, shooting him a dark glare.

"I don't even _know_ you, dirty bastard." His blood-red eyes widened at her smartass reply, then narrowed as he grabbed her by her throat, his hand moving so fast Jim didn't catch it untill he noticed her feet had left the ground.

"Then allow me to properly introduce my self." He leered at her, bringing his snout closer to her face. She gasped, trying to pry his hand away from her throat. Jim knew if he didn't do something, fast, he could kiss any hope he had goodbye. He stuck his hand into one of the inner pockets of his newly acquired jacket and stepped from the shadows.

"I've been looking all over for you!" he snapped harshly, looking directly at the girl. Startled, the Lacertillian turned to him, allowing the girl's feet to touch the ground once more. She gasped in a deep breath.

"You know this wretch?" he asked. Jim rolled his eyes.

"She's the niece of the captain's. I was on watch and my men reported to me that she'd managed to sneak away from her guardian." The man's eyes narrowed once more, this time out of suspicion.

"Why should I believe you?" he growled, those muscles flexing, his lips peeling back over gleaming sharp teeth. Jim's fingers suddenly closed around something that he hadn't noticed in the pocket before.

"Well, she certainly looks like the girl I'm looking for." He pulled out a small, black, surprisingly heavy drawstring bag. It's contents jingled as he held it up for the spacer to see, barely managing to hide his own surprise. "As you can imagine, as first mate, it wouldn't look good for me to bring back the wrong girl. That's why I'm offering a reward for her safe return." The spacer's expression changed in an instant, totally focused on the bag of coins. "Now, I _think_ that this girl looks familiar." He leaned closely to examine her frightened face, frowning. "But, of course I could be wrong-"

"Don't see many Terran around here. I believe you might be right." he said, letting go of her neck and thrusting her towards Jim. He caught her by her upper arm, ignoring her gasps and shaking as he calmly handed the spacer the bag.

"Thank you, sir. I'm sure the captain will be glad to see she's safe." The spacer ignored him, stalking away as he counted out the silver coins. Turning back toward the inner city, Jim thrust the girl away from him, ordering loud enough for the spacer to hear, "And as for you young lady; March!" She stumbled a bit but began trotting ahead of him. As they started back towards the pub, Jim smirked. This may be much easier than he'd thought.


End file.
